How to Tell
by jlocked2212
Summary: How do you tell someone what they mean to you? If you are Sherlock Holmes how do you explain what your only friend means to you? Eventually Johnlock. Warnings for: some swearing, violence and mentions of kidnapping/abuse. AU.
1. Walk Away

**A/N: This is the day when I pretend the Fall didn't happen and I'm just a happy little duck. I also don't have this story planned out yet sooo there might be some gaps in between updates. **

Once again John was captured, out of the loop and angry. He had been sitting tied to the chair, blindfolded and gagged for several hours listening to his captors, of unidentified affiliation, threaten him and Sherlock. Then Sherlock showed up and, of course instead of untying John and letting the trained army man help fight the dangerous group of men, he just fought them all himself. Then he untied John's hands. Even as the blindfold was removed and the gag was taken out, he has the urge to come up swinging at Sherlock Holmes.

He didn't speak from the time Sherlock untied him until Lestrade addressed him directly asking if he was ok. Even then he only managed a short, "Yes, thank you." Anderson made a cutting remark about John being a damsel in distress, and after that John walked off the crime scene right then. He walked away from the police, the criminals, and especially Sherlock. He kept walking and walking until it was 3am and he was sitting on a bench in a park on the other side London from the flat in the soaking rain. He shoulder hurt from the damp, and his clothes were soaked through. His phone had rung about 25 times in his pocket but he continued to ignore it.

He sat there angry and fuming until a silhouette of a man in a long black coat walked up the path. He sat down next to John and waited. John was so angry he couldn't form words, but he had decided against talking anyway. He was sure Sherlock was deducing everything anyway so what was the point of saying anything? Finally Sherlock spoke as the rain started to let up.

"You're upset?" Sherlock asked but John was sure it wasn't a question. His anger continued to build. Sherlock never needed to be told anything. He always knew everything. He could just leave John out of the picture without even thinking about it. After 18 months of this, John was sick of it. He didn't need praise, but acknowledgement of his existence would be nice every once in a while.

"John, I didn't mean for you to get kidnapped. I didn't know they were waiting…" Sherlock's voice was completely innocent, but John knew Sherlock too well to fall for it. He just looked at Sherlock for a moment.

"Sherlock, you know everything. You knew this was going to happen. You always know when this is going to happen. You never stop it. You never warn me. You deliberately put me in the way so you can come and play hero." John started out calmly but slowly his volume increased until he was shouting.

"Even I don't know everything and I don't play hero." Sherlock scoffed.

"Right," John growled and walked away from the other man again.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock called after him.

"Why don't you guess?" John shouted back. He continued walking away.

John hailed a taxi after he left the park and headed back to 221B. He got back to the flat and there were no signs of Sherlock which did not necessarily mean he wasn't there. He peeled off his soaked jacket and hung it up. It didn't really make him anymore comfortable though. John put the kettle on hoping to make tea before Sherlock appeared to bother him. He just wanted a cup of tea before getting away from Sherlock and going to bed.

Of course that didn't work out.

Sherlock came running up the stairs and turned to look at John in the kitchen. He stared at John through his soaked mop of curls for a few moments.

"Still angry. Hmmm. So you weren't mad until I untied you at the warehouse. You aren't mad that you were kidnapped. This has something to do with me. Don't listen to Anderson John. He doesn't know anything. " Sherlock was still coming down from the high of the solving the crime so he was talking very quickly.

"That's not the problem Sherlock,"

"You don't care what Anderson thinks?" Sherlock asked. He looked a bit puzzled.

"Sherlock, do you ever EVER consider letting me know what you are planning? Ever? Just so I know because having no idea who I'm going to run after or who is going to kidnap me has been working out so well." John fumed.

"No I'm not going to tell you. I'll always keep you in the dark. Its best that way." Sherlock threw himself down in his chair in front of the fire while John shouted. For a moment John stood there gapping at the other man. He expected Sherlock to be unaware that he was leaving John out of the plans or something similar. He had never expected Sherlock to deliberately use him as bait or keep him in the dark on purpose. Suddenly John's anger came roaring back.

"Why?! Oh wait I know because you can't slow down to tell me." John turned his back on Sherlock again. He focused on making his tea trying to calm himself down. He really really didn't want to punch Sherlock but he was starting to lose his self control. He had thought Sherlock and him were friends, colleges, partners. He didn't know what his place was in this life with Sherlock was if it wasn't to help the other man solve crimes. But the longer he stayed, the more it seemed like Sherlock didn't need anyone let alone an average ex-army doctor with a tremor in his hand and limp in his head.

"No that's not it." Sherlock said after another moment.

"Then why not?" John shouted as he whipped around again.

"Because sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side," Sherlock spit the words he had once said to Irene Adler, but never looked away from the fire. "And I cannot lose the game again John. I lost once but not again. I can't lose you either."

"What are you talking about Sherlock?" John shifted his weight suddenly aware that the conversation had shifted. His tone was still sharp, but he didn't shout this time.

"If I tell you, if I tell you anything that I deduce or that I know before you head out and get kidnapped, they will know. Someone will figure it out and you won't be sitting there blindfolded as bait for me anymore. You'll be sitting there screaming as they try and pull the information out of you." Sherlock's voice trembled a bit at the end of the speech.

John didn't move. He didn't say anything. He just stared at Sherlock. Finally after a few moments, he could collect his thoughts.

"I was in the army Sherlock. You think I can't handle them?"

"I don't want you to have to handle him." Sherlock spat. John caught the essential word though.

"Him?" Sherlock looked even paler than usual to John.

"I mean, them." Sherlock corrected himself, but John understood perfectly.

"Moriarty?"

"He wants to hurt me John. He wants to burn out my heart but he doesn't want to physically hurt me, not yet at least." Sherlock whispered. He sounded concerned.

"And you think he will come after me?" John sounded incredulous, but even he knew there was some truth to that. He was probably the most emotional attachment the taller man could handle. A friend. John was so broken himself that he couldn't leave for fear of never finding someone who him understood again. John was sick of the soaked clothing clinging to his skin. He pulled off his jumper and plaid shirt and hung them by the fire.

"I know he will." Sherlock looked up at John was now standing shirtless by the fire. He quickly looked back down.

"Why?

"Because he figured it out before I did."

"What did he figure out?"

"Everything essential! If he hurt you, it would be…" Sherlock trailed off. For once it seemed he couldn't think of a word.

"Sherlock, half the time I just stand there. You figure everything out."

"Your input is valuable to me." Sherlock insisted looking at John with those pale eyes. John shrugged. The doctor didn't believe him. How often had he been ignored, talked to when he wasn't there, or left behind? How could his input be valuable to this man? Sherlock's gaze bore into him and left him feeling very venerable.

"I'm going to bed." John said suddenly. He was uncomfortable in his soaked jeans and he didn't understand what Sherlock wanted from him. Sherlock looked at him curiously but didn't say anything and John went upstairs to his room.


	2. Thinking and Playing

Sherlock POV

Sherlock knew many obscure things and he had a vast knowledge of many subjects. He could observe details and deduce conclusion better than anyone. Even though he was knowledgeable and intelligent, he didn't know how to impress upon his best friend how important he was to Sherlock. Out of all the things he knew how to express or even possess his feelings was not one he used often. It was becoming almost essential for him to find a way though. John's disbelief tonight was just one more reason. The other was to tell him one of the reasons why Sherlock kept such close tabs on his flatmate.

Moriarty's eyes and ears were around every corner, and he was interested in capturing John more than Sherlock. He was exceptionally dangerous to John of all people because his goal was to hurt Sherlock and to burn his heart out. The memory of the moment Sherlock knew what those words meant made his stomach turn. At the pool Moriarty's eyes had flicked to the left for just a moment after he uttered those words. _I'll burn the heart out of you. _ It seemed as though he had been looking behind him at John. Then their eyes met again. That was the moment when everything clicked into place and Sherlock realized how important John Watson was to him. He also realized how much danger that little fact put John in.

Friend was such an ordinary word to describe John Watson. Even though he was a rather ordinary looking man with an average intellect, he had made an exceptional impression on Sherlock. John was so much more to Sherlock than what the word, friend, implied. Colleague had been the first word Sherlock used to introduce the good doctor but that hadn't felt right even then. At first, Sherlock had been satisfied that John put up with his antics, but now Sherlock incorporated John into his schemes and wanted his assistance and participation. Helping or being involved in Sherlock's plans to capture criminals was dangerous, but the real danger for John was Sherlock's _feelings_ about the man. He even sneered the word in his head.

Sherlock admired John's medical knowledge, his fighting skills as well as his loyalty and his strong character. John had good instincts and he was an excellent shot. Sherlock held the other man very high in his regard but there was something else. Sherlock enjoyed having John around much more than any other person he knew or spent time with. He was concerned about him most of the time, but lately his ability to think clearly and efficiently was hampered by the intense worry about John.

Tonight at the crime scene he lost his cool objective manor as soon as he realized John had disappeared. His immediate concern was that John had been kidnapped by darker forces than the criminals that Sherlock had just subdued. His first thoughts had gone to Moriarty. In that moment he ran off the crime scene leaving DI Lestrade to figure out if the blood patterns actually meant anything.

Panicking in the middle of a London street, because John disappeared from a crime scene, had been a poor move on Sherlock's part. Moriarty had eyes and ears all over London. John was sage for now but later Moriarty would know what kind a lot about how Sherlock would react to John being taken. His panic could come back to haunt hime later. Moriarty watched to find the perfect opportunity to hurt Sherlock and Sherlock's greatest weakness was his concern for John. It was also the reason John was in very real danger. The criminals tonight wanted information from John that he didn't have so they just held him hoping to use him as leverage against Sherlock. On the other hand Moriarty wanted to hurt Sherlock. John was the way to do it. Moriarty didn't want information from John he just wanted to draw Sherlock out and cause John as much pain and suffering in the process as possible. Any kind of threat of injury or violence against John would break Sherlock. He would try anything to avoid it, and both Sherlock and Moriarty knew that. Possible scenarios like this always concerned Sherlock, but never as much as it had tonight. Sherlock worked his mind constantly to keep his mind one step ahead of the consulting criminal.

After calling John several times, Sherlock started to relax. The phone clicked to voicemail after different amounts of rings every time. If he was captured, John wouldn't be able to send the phone calls to voicemail. By the time Sherlock found John, he had deduced John was probably upset with him specifically and not about the crime. After an hour of fruitless searching in places he expected John to be, Sherlock used his phone to locate the GPS on John's phone. Sherlock finally found John sitting on a park bench. Both of them were soaked but John had been immediately hostile and stomped off again back to the flat. After they got home, they had gotten into another argument and it ended only when John went to bed. Sherlock was still silently cursing himself for revealing so much about his concerns about John to him. Now Sherlock was standing playing violin in his blue bathrobe, pajamas and bare feet.

Sherlock looked at the song he was composing. He kept telling himself the song wasn't for John, and he only thought of John as he wrote it. The song was something he enjoyed playing but it wasn't finished yet. Maybe when Sherlock deciphered his relationship with John he would be able to write an ending for the song.

Even so, he sat down his pen. Sherlock's biggest problem was that his attempts to protect John often alienated or upset the other man just like tonight. John had gone to be as soon as Sherlock's feelings surfaced. He felt rejection like a slap but he tried to push it away. John had been in damp clothing and Sherlock had been vague and distant. Sherlock tried to comfort himself and hoped John hadn't seen the truth.

As he continued to play, his feet carried him up the stairs to the door of John's room. His worry about John earlier in the evening made him need to make sure the other man was alright. This need overwhelmed any concern that John would see him. Sherlock was fairly sure that John had not woken up from his nightmare yet. The song that he played was soft and when he looked in John seemed to be breathing hard but he wasn't shouting anymore. Sherlock smiled to himself. Maybe he could help his friend after all. Suddenly John seemed to stir and the spell was broken. He once again feared that John would wake up and see him. Sherlock continued to play but quickly made his way back down to the window in the sitting room.

But he still pondered the question, "How do you tell someone you care?"

**A/N: All input is appreciated. I edited a couple things in the first chapter. Sorry if that threw anyone off! **


	3. Midnight Conversations

**John's POV**

Hours after walking away from Sherlock, John woke up from the nightmares. The bombs and screams in his dreams were replaced by soft violin music from downstairs. The music seemed familiar, but it seemed to change before he could really focus his mind on it. Instead he heard a piece that Sherlock played often when he was thinking. John's throat ached so he had probably been shouting. He assumed it had been loud because whenever he woke up and heard violin music, he knew Sherlock had heard him shouting. When he woke up from nightmares without a sore throat, there was no music.

"My own science of deduction," he muttered as he rolled over and almost fell as he got out of bed. His heart and his head were pounding. He needed some tea. Tea would remind him he was in England. Tea would force him to forget the dream of men dying all around him. John made his way downstairs and found Sherlock in the front window. Moonlight was the only light that illuminated the man standing there. A pencil was in one hand and the violin in the other. John started to make tea. He was moving slowly trying not to aggravate his head too much. His heart was finally slowing down.

"Are you going to leave John?" Sherlock asked suddenly. John was taken aback.

"Just making tea Sherlock, I'll be gone in a minute." He mumbled annoyed. He heard Sherlock set the violin down and crossed the flat to come stand behind him.

"No, John, you misunderstand. Are you going to leave me, the flat? Sherlock asked. John was confused.

"No," He continued to make his tea with his back still to Sherlock.

"But you were angry, and you are still angry." Sherlock said.

"That doesn't mean I'm going to leave."

"You left the crime scene." Sherlock pointed out.

"Yea, Sherlock, but that was a crime scene. Here, at the flat, we have an agreement. I'm not just going to walk out of our flat." John turned around wondering why Sherlock was so worried.

"We have an agreement about crime scenes. It isn't written, but we both have taken it seriously. You do the medical and I do the deductions."

"And acknowledgement that you didn't already know what comes out of my mouth never happens." John muttered. Sherlock heard him, but continued with his train of thought.

"John you claim that you are not going to simply walk out of the flat. You do that every day just walking out without a care. Tonight, you didn't say anything either! You just left. I thought…" Sherlock trailed off again.

**Sherlock's POV**

"What?"

"I didn't know where you were! And you don't pay attention when you walk around London. Anyone could have taken you!" Sherlock exclaimed. The words poured out of his mouth before he could stop them. John was obviously startled by these cracks in the armor, and how paranoid Sherlock was about him being kidnapped. He took a step back from his flatmate.

"You don't need to worry so much and you don't always know where I am!" John objected, but Sherlock just raised an eyebrow at him and took a deep breath. Sherlock moved farther into the kitchen. He put both hands on the back of a chair as he leaned over it. He closed his eyes collecting all the information he had gathered about John, his habits and his whereabouts. When he spoke, it was quickly and his voice was low instead of his typical manic, excited demeanor when he was observing.

"It takes you 12.6 minutes to walk home from the clinic, but you normally leave between 5 and 7 minutes after your shift ends because you catch up with your co-workers or finish reports. You go to the store three times a week on average and usually spend an additional 15.2 minutes there, sometimes up to 20 minutes because you have trouble at the checkout. This adds 3.5 minutes to your walk. You work at the clinic 4 days a week and on your day off you usually go to the pub in evening with Mike. You typically spend 4 hours there and come home after a few drinks. You are rarely drunk. Mike always drinks more than you and you often ride home with him in the cab. It take 20 minutes to get to the pub if you take Mike home it takes an extra 10 minutes for you to get home. I don't have to explain your whereabouts when we are at the flat, working cases or when we are together working for the Yard." When Sherlock finished he looked over at John. John's mouth was hanging open and Sherlock quickly added, "I have to keep tabs on you if I'm going to know if you get kidnapped or not."

"Just so we are clear, in general are you worried or are you concerned about a specific kidnapper?" John asked. Sherlock's head snapped around. His blue eyes pierced John.

"All of them!" he threw his hands up in the air.

"Except you weren't worried about it at all tonight when I got grabbed." John scoffed breaking their eye contact.

"I am always worried about you John. I just have no desire for everyone to know that I'm concerned." Sherlock explained. He added _because it keeps you safer_ in his mind. John simply stared at him.

"You. The man who scoffs at sentiment and sets up when I'm going to be kidnapped, You, worry about me?" John rolled his eyes. "Sherlock I know you are trying to make up for our fight tonight, but your attempts at patching things up usually are a means to an end."

Sherlock couldn't believe what he was wearing. Even so he didn't know how angry and frustrated his friend was because of his behavior. John was sure that Sherlock couldn't actually be concerned about him. It wasn't like Sherlock pestered John to eat and clean up dangerous experiments and sleep on a regular basis like John did for Sherlock. John turned to finish making his tea.

"You just aren't going to believe me. You refuse to believe anything I say?" Sherlock was still staring at John.

"It's not that I don't believe you care Sherlock, but I've learned you normal have a reason behind these type of reactions. I'm just waiting to find out what it is this time." John picked up his tea. He turned to look at Sherlock again.

"Every day we chase murders around London…and I need to have a reason to be concerned about you? When we work with dangerous criminals?" Sherlock turned his head and scrunched his eyebrows together.

"You usually do have a reason. What case are you working on? Are you going to slip something into my coffee again?" John smirked and sipped his tea. Sherlock was furious that John wasn't taking this seriously. He turned away from John and picked up the violin. He began playing it much more harshly than before. John left the kitchen and headed back to bed with his tea in hand.

After their fight, John slept soundly. He was dead to the world. The sounds of London and the memories of war, for once, did not disturb his sleep.

He didn't hear Sherlock leave the flat in the middle of the night and slam the door in frustration. He didn't hear someone pick the lock to their flat or two men move up the stairs. John felt the needle stick into his arm, but when he opened his eyes they instantly felt heavy again. He tried to fight, but his limbs were too heavy. His body was picked up and taken out into the car that was waiting on the street.

As he slipped into unconsciousness, John thought maybe Sherlock had been right to be worried. Two kidnappings in one evening certainly was too much.

**A/N: Input is always appreciated! Next chapter soon! **


	4. A Game to Play

**Sherlock's POV**

Sherlock walked through the streets of London looking for distractions. John believed everything the stupid news reporters on the telly said but he didn't believe Sherlock that there was a valid reason behind his concern. He would have punched a wall, but he had done that once on drugs and broken two knuckles. He had no desire to repeat that unsuccessful coping strategy. Instead he walked through London and stewed in his misery.

He was no closer to thinking of a way to prove to John that his concern was valid, necessary and sincere. He had been gone for a few hours. He had started to worry again when he had been several blocks from their flat, but pushed the concern away. If John could brush away Sherlock's concerns, so could he. Sherlock spent the night working through his homeless network asking them about the latest news for a case he was working on for the Yard. He had put the argument with John out of his mind. He locked it away in his mind for later. He didn't want distractions when he was working on collecting data for a case. It was almost dawn when a young man in the homeless network ran up to him.

Josh was one of his most reliable people on the streets. He was breathless and looked ragged when he ran up to Sherlock. Josh was also one of the people that Sherlock used to keep an eye on John when he was busy. In his annoyance and anger he had forgotten the few people in his network that were instructed to watch the flat if they saw him out on the streets at odd hours.

"Oi where have you been all night?" Josh almost shouted at him as he ran up. "I've been looking everywhere."

"Talking to the others about cases," Sherlock answered unfazed by the breathlessness of the other man.

"Your flatemate's been taken again," he wheezed. He doubled over trying to catch his breath. Sherlock's eyes bugled as he pulled Josh up.

"What?" he almost shouted. Twice in one night was unheard of. Sherlock knew his other cases didn't endanger John either. Most of them were unaware he was even looking for them. He felt his chest tighten a little bit.

"Six men busted into your house. I knew I couldn't take 'em alone... I waited and they brought him out... Drugged 'cause he was carried, but he looked alright. All of 'em were big blokes too except one." He stopped to breathe again.

"What did the other man look like?" Sherlock prompted although he dreaded the answer.

"Small, squirrelly and he had a suit on. A nice suit. He smiled a lot," Josh told him now that he was recovered.

"Moriarty," Sherlock breathed. He grimaced and thanked Josh quickly before he turned back to the street and hailed a cab. He rushed into 221B and ran upstairs. There were only a few signs of a break in before Sherlock reached John's room. There were things thrown everywhere. It was hard to imagine five large men in the room with Moriarty as well. A lamp was knocked off the table and a syringe lay on the floor. Sherlock quickly put it in a plastic bag. What disturbed Sherlock the most was the blood that was on the floor. There was a small trail of blood from the bed to the bedroom door, but it ended there. He took a sample down to the kitchen for analysis. Sherlock dialed Lestrade. He knew he could take care or Moriarty on his own, but if John was in danger he might need help.

"Come on your own." Sherlock told Lestrade when he answered, and hung up the phone. After a quarter of an hour of pacing in the living room, Lestrade showed up in the doorway of the flat.

"What's going on Sherlock," Lestrade was annoyed. It was early in the morning and he had been out the night before cleaning up the mess that Sherlock had made.

"John's been kidnapped."

"Again? Already? He was just picked up last night and I've been working on that since the two of you disappeared off the scene."

"Yes, I know. It is highly unusual, but tonight I have reason to believe that he is actually in danger."

"He is always in danger when someone kidnaps him. No thanks to you," Lestrade accused him and the insult stung a bit.

"I do what I can to keep John as safe as I can." Sherlock told him.

"I don't believe you do enough,"

"I don't need you to believe it. I know it."

"Then why am I here, if your protection keeps John so safe?" Sherlock grimaced.

"I think Moriarty had him and if he does, the less people that are involved, the better."

"What do you need?" Lestrade's demeanor changed dramatically after the mention of Moriarty.

"I need to know which drugs were in the vial and what kind of dirt is in this one. It came out of the shoes of someone that was here. John keeps his shoes downstairs so I doubt it was his. I also need you to work on a sample. Molly can run those tests. I need you to drop them off. While you're gone I'll try to plot out where I think John is. I already have a couple of idea,"

"Based on what?"

"This note," Sherlock held it out. The plastic bag that covered the note created a glare, but that could not hide the bright red streaks of blood that covered the page.

_Come and Play a Game. The Winner Keeps Him. _

"Its John's blood type and by the amount of blood in the room upstairs I would say he is injured fairly badly. I don't have time to figure out if Moriarty is just playing games or if this is really John's blood. This paper is also special. It could be meant to lead me away from them or deliberately to him. It's heavier than most stores would carry. I've been trying to find a shop that carries something this thick," Sherlock explained. Lestrade looked at Sherlock. His hands were shaking while he held the note and his eyes were wide, almost wild.

"Sherlock, are you going to be ok until I come back?"

"My flatmate has been kidnapped by the man who wants me dead and doesn't care how it happens. I must find a way to stop him. If I want my mind to work, I cannot be distracted by those facts." Sherlock told him. "I will be fine. Call me as soon as you have results."

"Don't leave without me." Lestrade told him. As soon as he latched the door, Sherlock was rushing around the flat. He was almost manic in his movements. He could barely keep his mind on the task he was doing before jumping over to test another theory. Sherlock told Lestrade he would wait but Sherlock planned to leave without him. If he wasn't back before the time Sherlock was ready to leave, he would leave without Lestrade. Moments were precious against Moriarty. He would waste no more than he already had.

**A/N: Sorry its short. Still planning ahead! **


	5. Unwilling Participant

**Chapter 5**

John was gagged and bound when he woke up. There was a shooting pain in his head and he was lying on his bad shoulder which made it ache. John realized something was wrong, but his mind was still fuzzy from the drugs. He vaguely remembered having an argument with Sherlock and going to bed. Then the needle prick, hands pulling him out of bed and then he was here. He rolled over off his bad shoulder and onto his back. He head swam and he heard movement from the other side of the room. He saw a face he didn't recognize and then passed out again.

The second time John woke up he was sitting laying on a different floor. There was more light in the room he was in now and he heard voices as the door slammed. The floor was hard but he was laying on his good shoulder this time. His head was much clearer now and his anxiety started to grow as he realized what was going on. He had been kidnapped again. How much time had passed? Where was Sherlock? Where was he? Who kidnapped him this time? John rolled over to see the door that had closed moments ago and hoped he was alone so he could try to escape his bonds. No such luck.

"Ah Johnny boy!" James Moriarty and another man were walking toward him. John cringed involuntarily. The last time he actually saw this man face to face Moriarty had strapped explosive and an earpiece to him. "No no no don't be like that. I want to see the pretty face that my favorite detective has fallen in love with. Sentiment, as he calls it. It is just so dangerous. Too bad it's going to be too much for him to handle this time."

John glared daggers at him, but his mind was racing. Love? Sherlock? What the hell was this maniac talking about?

"Trying to say something?" Moriarty glanced at the henchman who pulled out the gag. John coughed a few times.

"Wrong...you're wrong." John sputtered out.

"Is that it?" Moriarty rolled his eyes. "Oh you are such a boring little pet!"

The phone in John's pocket trilled. An incoming text message. Moriaty rolled John over and pulled the phone out of his pocket. John rolled himself back over.

"Where are you John?" Moriarty read. "Looks like it's from your boss. Hmmm what should I text back? Let's try….Sorry…a little…tied up at the moment. Don't text me again or crazed criminal shoots…How's that sound?"

"You are insane," John murmured as Moriarty's fingers flew over the keys. The criminal grinned.

"Well of course." The phone remained silent as the moment ticked by. Moriarty sighed. "I already texted Sherlock so he should be on his way to find you soon."

"What do you want?"

"Nothing you can give me. A distraction! To continue the game! He won with Irene and I don't have anyone else to send that's as good as her. So I had to come myself again. Sherlock has to come and play my game. Of course he thinks that I'm going to let you go if he comes, He thinks he can win." Moriarty grinned wickedly. "He's wrong of course. I'll just kill you both if he comes."

John stared at the man as his mind raced with questions. How to escape or warn Sherlock was at the top of the list.

"If you want to just kill us how will that be a distraction. He'll win you know. He beat you last time. He's smarter than you," John challenged.

"So loyal! He won last time? You really think so? Just because you walked out last time? Oh, so cute! It will be too bad to kill you Dr. Watson, but It will make Sherlock so much more fun. We will have to wait and see. In the mean time, Jerry, why don't you have some fun with Dr. Watson? "

Moriarty turned and left the chamber and John heard the man, Jerry apparently, crack his knuckles. John swallowed hard and hoped Sherlock would stay as far away as possible.

**A/N: Sorry its so short! I will try to make the next part longer. Input always appreciated. **


	6. A New Plan

**A/N: Mentions of violence/abuse/torture in this chapter. Just a warning. **

Chapter 6

Sherlock had been watching and waiting for Moriarty's return to London. He knew where the warehouse was where they had first taken John. Once he realized John was gone he had quickly deduced which hideout they would most likely use and rushed to get there ahead of them. He expected to have been too late, but he in fact arrived on schedule to see a car pull up. He waited outside on the rooftop as they had dragged him inside. Sherlock had to exert an enormous amount of control in order not to run into the building and grab John. He examined the building for weaknesses, but was sure Moriarty had found all the probable weaknesses there too and had plans for Sherlock to be captured if he exploited any of them.

Just hours after John had been secured there, he was moved to another location. Sherlock had followed the van to another secluded abandoned building in London. The moments ticked away while Sherlock examined the building. It was an old abandoned warehouse that was once used for food storage and shipment. It was even more difficult to get into than the other building would have been. It was set apart from all other buildings on the lot so there was no chance of jumping onto the roof and invading from above. Four guards patrolled the perimeter while a fifth walked from entrance to entrance watching for signs of trouble. Each one had several weapons at their disposal. There was no electricity running into the building and all signs pointed out that it had been abandoned for about five years. There were sure to be freezers inside from the food processing which was where they were most likely keeping John in order to prevent escape or rescue. Tiny bullet proof jail cells. Moriarty would stay in the building in order to catch Sherlock in any attempt of a rescue as well. He wanted to play a game and obviously grabbed John as bait.

Sherlock was worried about this situation. What if John was already dead? Would the interference in their lives stop if Sherlock rescued John this time? What could he do, that he wasn't already, to keep John safe? Sherlock's mobile vibrated in his pocket. He stepped back off the ledge of the roof to answer it.

"Sherlock where are you!? I told you to wait for me. This is dangerous," Lestrade was yelling over the phone.

"I'm fine Lestrade. I'm working on the case." Sherlock told him sounding annoyed. In reality he didn't want Greg anywhere near here. _Just leave me be. Just stay away and live another day_.

"I have the test results. The blood wasn't John's, but I haven't found the paper yet." Greg explained.

"The blood wasn't John's?" Sherlock was actually surprised.

"Molly thinks it was frozen blood…maybe to make it look like John had fought back?" Lestrade theorized. Sherlock rolled his eyes. He didn't have time for Lestrade's guesses. The blood though bothered him. He should have looked more closely and observed rather than being worried about John.

"The motive of leaving blood was for me to find. I doubt Moriarty expected me to involve the police….he just wants me to play this game." Sherlock mumbled trying to work out the meaning of the fake blood.

"The needle just had a heavy sedative in it. No poison. Molly says it would knock him out for several hours. Up to six maybe and if they keep giving it to him, it will take him a long time to come out of it."

"Moriarty wouldn't be so careless unless he wanted me to know this." Sherlock bit his bottom lip.

"If you didn't involve the police and tested the drug yourself and saw all the blood, what would you have thought?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock went back to the moments at the flat. He was almost in a panic at that moment. He had assumed the blood was John's, a stupid mistake, and wanted the drug tested.

"I would have thought John was drugged and injured. More likely to rush into a trap and, Lestrade, the paper doesn't matter anymore. I've tracked them down for now." Greg sighed. He knew a dismissal when he heard one.

"Sherlock tell me where you are. I can help." Greg pleaded. Sherlock knew Greg was concern, but Sherlock knew involving anyone one else would probably get everyone killed.

"No." Sherlock turned off the phone to ensure Lestrade didn't track him through GPS. He continued to watch the building in order to learn as much as possible before executing his plan. He studied the guards, traffic patterns, security cameras, the type of glass in the windows and he listened. Two hours later he had a plan.

Moriarty expected him to try and sneak in and for John to try to escape. He expected a panicked, emotionally fueled escape plan. He thought back to how much he had to restrain himself at the other building. He grimaced and scolded himself. Emotions…Sherlock checked himself. They were there under the surface but unimportant, for now. Moriarty had probably anticipated a rescue at the previous warehouse and when none came…he left. He took a risk moving John because the outcome wasn't what he anticipated. Sherlock almost jumped up and down with glee. He had Moriarty on edge which gave Sherlock an advantage in this game. With that problem worked out, Sherlock had come up with his own plan. There was one thing that Moriarty could have overlooked. There was only a slim chance it would work, but he had to try. Sherlock knew he could not take out the five armed guards that walked the perimeter of the building. Time was short. Moriarty wanted to play a game, but what if Sherlock refused? It was a risk of his own and it put John in danger until Sherlock could reach him, but it was the best Sherlock had.

Sherlock quickly typed a message to John. The plan was set into motion. He rushed down off the top of the building he was on to get himself in position.

**John's POV**

"What does it mean?" John blinked a few times at the screen.

The letter _A_ blinked back at him. He continued to stare at it perplexed.

"I don't know…" John wheezed. At this point he was sure a couple of his ribs were broken.

"Tell me!" Moriarty shouted. He snarled at John. "I know you used code words on Irene…so tell me what this means."

Moriarty was right of course. John was going over the dozen or so words that they had agreed on ages ago to help get them out of trouble. None of them had been a single letter though. None of them even started with A! John continued to sift through his memories to come up with the real meaning of the text. It didn't help his head was pounding from drugs and punches.

"I'm telling you I don't know what it means." John insisted growing frustrated. Moriarty leaned into his face. His face twisted from a scowl to the crazed smile again.

"I'm sure Sherlock will be launching the brilliant plan now. TELL ME WHAT HE IS GOING TO DO!" John was tired of the crazed man yelling in his face.

"I'm sure you have already anticipated this. If you are so brilliant, figure it out." John spat the last part as an insult. Moriarty turned and glared at the guards.

"I want a full sweep of the building and the surrounding ones. GO GO GO!" The men left. All of them pivoted and ran to follow orders. He turned back to John smiling. "Now we are going to have a little chat until Sherlock gets here."

John grimaced and hoped Sherlock was on the other side of the world and not trying to sneak into this building which was full of men ready to kill him. He was lost in thought again about how to try and take advantage while they were alone when Moriarty poked him in the ribs. John cringed. How many times had Jerry kicked him there in the last hour? John was sure one of his arms was fractured or broken and his head hurt like hell. His whole body was aching from laying on the ground on his back shoulder. He didn't want to listen to his keeper any longer. He wished at that moment he could will himself to pass out.

"Shall I send him another text? Hurry Sherlock John is bleeding to death. Hurry Sherlock, John is suffocating on his own vomit because of the drugs I've given him…." The possibilities rolled off the consulting criminal's tongue. He continued to dance around John as he talked and tried to decide which one would be the best one.

"I don't think the text will be necessary, but thank you for the thought," Sherlock's voice rang out across the room. Moriarty snapped his head up and grinned at Sherlock. The detective was pointing a gun at Moriarty. James Moriarty began to giggle. Relief and horror washed through John.

"See Johnny! I told you he would come!"

**A/n: Input always appreciated. **


	7. End of the Game

**A/n: Thanks everyone for the great feedback and all the lovely reviews. I'm glad people are enjoying this. **

**Chapter 7**

"Somehow I knew you would bring that gun. Well this was short. I put all my hopes in you and you always turn out this way." Moriarty rolled his eyes. Sherlock glanced around the abandoned freezer as he answered.

"Yea, I supposed I do." They were in a room the size of a classroom with steel walls and low ceilings. _Dangerous to shoot unless I'm certain I'm going to hit him._

"I expected you to try and sneak in or something. Please? Can't you just play along for once? Stop brooding all the time. Don't you want to know my new venture Sherlock?" Moriarty continued to circle John like a shark. He kept looking down then back up at sherlock.

"I do not brood." He ignored the question even though it was burning in his mind. _ A new venture? What kind of madness have you been financing now?_

"You can have him back if you play," he taunted again as he looked down at John. Sherlock kept his eyes on Moriarty. It was safer that way.

"I could have him back if I just shoot you." _Leave John out of it. _

"Not that again. There is no fun in the game if you just walk in here. After I went to all that trouble to make sure you had so many options of ways in. You just decided to walk in. You won't just walk out though," Moriarty sneered at him. He was on edge which made Sherlock nervous. Moriarty was hard to read when he was stable let alone when Sherlock knocked him off balance.

"I saw your ways in but I wanted to use a different one." Sherlock told him while trying to distract him. _How long did they have before the guards were back?_

"Which one was that?"

"The front door," Moriarty actually laughed at that.

"So what's the plan? What was A?" Moriarty mocked him and tried to bait Sherlock into the dance they played so well.

"I'm not playing your game," Sherlock sneered. _I'm not putting John in even more danger than I already have._

"I'm disappointed Sherlock. Aren't you bored too?" Moriarty tutted. Sherlock smiled. The trick wasn't going to work this time. Sherlock knew it wasn't this crazed man's expectations that he needed to worry about. Not this time. He glanced behind his enemy to look at John who was lying on the floor wide eyed. His eyes were focused on Moriarty's back. There was blood on the floor.

_Broken nose? Possible. Scalp injury? More probable. Probably from a boot. Abuse. So probably broken ribs? Bruises forming already. Johns head kept rolling to the side... Exhaustion or losing consciousness...poison? All possible but cant tell from this distance. _Anxiety began to grow in his chest but Sherlock pushed it back down.

"Not recently."

"Not since you realized that I was coming back." Sherlock frowned. It was partly true. Discovering all of Moriarty's hideouts had taken up significant amounts of time which kept him from being bored. He didn't contribute that to the Consulting Criminal though. He had always been trying to protect John and himself from kidnapping again. "You could have saved us all this trouble. Does John know what you've been up to? Does he know why he is in so much danger? I know and you know but does he?"

"Leave him out of it." Sherlock demanded. _Shut up! Shut up! Of course he doesn't know! _

"I had your demise all planned out and you ruined it..." He sounded so glum while he stood beside John bloodied and broken.

"Well...not quite." Sherlock smiled.

"What?... WHAT?" Moriarty shouted as Sherlock chuckled.

"You had it all planned out at the last warehouse. Here not so much or you would have kept a guard with you. You panicked. You didn't know what my next move was when I didn't rush into save John immediately. You moved him again and needed more guards than you have to cover all the entrances and the property perimeter Then my little text, which meant nothing by the way, sent them rushing all over the building and the property so that I could just walk in." Sherlock explained. He smiled, but Moriarty's grin vanished. His eyes were hard.

"Oh so your going to kill me? I'd still be surprised. There will be more though. It's not just me you have to worry about."

"Like who?"

"Oh that would be telling." Moriarty smiled again. Sherlock cocked his head at the statement wondering for the first time if this crazed man was the head of an organization or just the face. _Stupid stupid you should have thought of this. More danger. This isn't the end. _

At that moment Sherlock heard doors being broken in and shouts of a police crew. Moriarty pulled a gun out of his pocket and pointed it down at John. He looked up at Sherlock smiling. Sherlock saw the muscles in his hand start to tighten and Sherlock's finger closed instinctively aroud the trigger and a shots rang out. Sherlock saw Moriarty fall and heard Lestrade's voice shouting instructions from outside the freezer.

"Sherlock! Sherlock! Sherlock where are you?" He turned and ran to the door and started shouting back.

"Lestrade! In here. In the freezer."

He turned back to John who he had expected to try and get off the floor. John was still lying on the floor and he wasn't moving or shouting at Sherlock like he normally would in this situation. Sherlock rushed over to his friend and rolled him over. John was unconscious and breathed a sigh of relief, but when Sherlock rolled him on his back he saw a small pool of blood was pooling under John's side. _PANIC_

"LESTRADE!"

**A/n: Input always appreciated. (Sorry for two cliff hangers in a row) **


	8. Bright Lights

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait. I've been busy with midterms! **

**Chapter 8 **

**Sherlock's POV**

Sherlock sat. He sat and sat in the little white room with strange paintings on the walls and encouraging words. He sat waiting for John to come out of surgery. To hear from doctors. To hear from anyone. For the first time in his life he regretted knowing the statistics of these kinds of operations and everything that could go wrong. He regretted knowing that the doctor he had talked to earlier was not as confident about John's chances as he told Sherlock he was. He regretted knowing that Harry Watsons' tremble was not just from her concern about her brother but instead from her excess drinking.

The official story played on the Telly on the wall in that tiny room.

**Breaking Undercover Officer Takes Out One of Britain's Most Wanted... Detective Inspector Lestrade's Statement in two hours...**

Sherlock's official role in the police force was now an undercover cop. He had been searching for Moriarty for months and found him with a hostage, John, who was also an undercover cop. That was the story. Lestrade was working out all the details and would brief Sherlock on it later. After the surgery. After they found out if John would live. The bullet had torn through his body. Sherlock shuddered as the memories of blood and chaos echoed through his mind. He hadn't had time to examine John thoroughly before the police had dragged him off to an ambulance. It only worsened his anxiety. Almost twelve hours later, Sherlock was still here. Here in the hospital.

_Waiting, worrying, guilty. He should have told John earlier. Told him Moriarty was actually back, actually roaming around London. That he was looking for Sherlock. Hunting him and looking for a weakness…finding it and then looking for a moment to attack Sherlock's only weakness. The only man…_Sherlock stopped the train of thought. He couldn't think about it. It was only confusing and he needed to be sharp right now. He couldn't explain it to himself let alone John. John who might be dying or might be dead already.

Sherlock continued to curse himself for being so stupid. He had seen the plan. He knew Moriarty didn't want to play. He just wanted to kill Sherlock or take away the only things that mattered. When he had expressed the feeling to Mycroft, his brother had been less than helpful.

_"It is regrettable that John was hurt, but if Moriarty had not shot him, you might be in more trouble than you are." _Sherlock had nearly belted him in the face. Mycroft was right though. Sherlock was being held up as a hero rather than a murderer because of Moriarty's last act, but John might die. _Did it matter if Sherlock went to jail if John died?_ _Did anything matter if he died? Could he go back to before? _

Sherlock went over the things that had changed since John had entered his life. Dishes were clean. Wash was done. The flat was swept. Sherlock ate. He solves things faster because John helped. He was accepted by more people. John took care of him when he was sick. Mycroft came around less and Mrs. Hudson bothered him less. Sherlock cared... _Conclusion - Doubtful. Probably impossible. _

Finally the doctors emerged. They spoke to Harry who nodded her head the entire time they were talking. Sherlock was relieved the moment they walked through the door. Their posture and expressions signaled relief, confidence. _Success. Safety. He will live._

Harry's posture relaxed as they talked to her. She smiled over at Sherlock once the doctors left her. They had exchanged a few words while they were sitting there waiting, but it was uncomfortable and tense. Since those first few moments, they sat on opposite sides of the room. Now she approached him. She was hesitant.

"It went clear through his abdomen. They said nothing had damaged, but there was a lot of internal bleeding from a few organs being nicked by the bullet so that's what took so long. Lucky it didn't hit bone…"she trailed off.

"…it would have splintered the bone and caused more damage." Sherlock completed the thought. She nodded. In his mind he added more. _Especially if it had hit one of the ones that was already broken or cracked. A few inches higher and the bones could have shattered and ripped his lungs and heart to shreds. _

"He'll probably be unconscious for a few more hours. They want to keep him out overnight so he doesn't experience the worst pain. I've told them you are to be treated as family."

"Thank you," Sherlock told her. He was shocked by her gesture of goodwill since it was his fault after all that John was even here.

"No Sherlock, thank you." She added. He nodded and they waited some more.

**John's POV**

John felt the bullet tear through his side and all his memories from the war tore through his mind. Moriarty's body slumped painfully hard onto his legs and Sherlock started shouting at the door. His vision began to cloud over. He felt Moriarty, the warehouse and Sherlock slip away as he desperately tried to cling to reality.

Then just pain and blackness for a long time

Suddenly there was light pouring in from an unknown source. Bright white light assaulted him even though his eyes were closed. He turned away from the light and slowly, very slowly, opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was Sherlock sleeping in a chair. The clean white room made it obvious he was in a hospital. What happened? Memories slowly came back. The war and the warehouse intertwined.

"Sherlock…Sherlock." John mumbled. His tongue didn't want to work. As he slowly woke up, the pain started to hit him. At first just a dull throb, but then it became sharper and sharper. John became more impatient. "Sherlock!"

"Huh what? …John! You shouldn't be awake yet! They said you should stay unconscious at least over night. It's only five o'clock. At least twelve more hours…." Sherlock's voice was sluggish as well and he was babbling. His curly hair was untidy and his long black coat rumpled from sitting. Obviously he had been in the room a while.

"What happened? How long have you been here?" John managed. He gritted his teeth against the pain.

"You've been in the hospital approximately fifteen hours. I have been here approximately fourteen and a half. What happened was….Moriarty shot before I could. John this is all my doing. I should have explained sooner." Sherlock shook his head as he spoke. He seemed very upset. His face was drawn and tired. John was shocked by how pale he was, but he seemed to be speaking nonsense.

"Explained what?"

"I…what I mean to say is…" His flatmate took a deep breath and looked straight at him "John."

As he began to speak, a nurse walked in and seemed surprised John was even awake and speaking. She asked him about his pain and gave him a dose of drugs through the IV. As he continued to talk to her, he became less coordinated and aware. She left when his head started to droop while she glared at Sherlock.

"Sherlock….none of this is your fault. You can't predict when he was going to shoot….not your… fault." John slowly drifted back to sleep. The last thing he remembered was Sherlock's mouth turning into a thin line and him shaking his head.

Then the black painless sleep overtook him again.

**A/n: Thanks for all the input! It is always appreciated. **


	9. While He Sleeps

**A/n: Sorry for such a long time in between updates! **

**Sherlock POV**

As John drifted back to sleep, Sherlock paced the room again. He had already counted everything he could in the room. He really did need some sleep, but he feared John waking up again. He obviously had some resistance to pain killers if he had woken up already. _Possibly because of the last gunshot wound. Will have to watch him in case of addiction if he pulls…don't say if. John survived the desert he will survive this. _

Gracious as per usual John had blamed himself for what happened, but Sherlock knew it was his selfishness that had gotten them into this mess. Instead of using John's input as he normally would have on a case, Sherlock had shut him out in order to protect him from Moriarty. At least that's what Sherlock told himself. In reality he knew he was only being selfish. He may have been protecting John, but was it just for himself? He didn't want to lose John.

Sherlock grunted and rolled his eyes in annoyance at himself. He glanced over at the chart at the end of John's bed. The nurse had scribbled something new on it during her last visit while she glared at Sherlock in the corner. Mycroft had insisted that Sherlock be allowed to stay with John and Lestrade had made something up about Sherlock being security to get the doctors to agree.

He squinted from where he sat trying to read the writing without getting up. So far they were sure John's injured included a lacerated scalp, four broken ribs, some internal bleeding and the bullet tearing through his body. Sherlock thought the scribble just indicated another dose of pain meds so he simply went back to analyzing all the information Lestrade had given him so far. The folder contained everything the Yard had about Moriarty's web and what they had found in the two warehouses as well as the residence that Sherlock had pointed out to the police.

There wasn't much beyond what Sherlock already knew. Some weapons, evidence of drugs and a web of criminals working together. Now Sherlock was sure he would have to work with Mycroft because most of the names were criminals from abroad. Greg walked through the door as Sherlock flipped the folder shut.

"Everything is cleared up with the press and my superiors."

"Good."

"How's John?"

"Asleep…. In pain...He has several severe injuries." Sherlock struggled to explain the details of what the doctors had found.

"He'll be alright?" Greg asked at the end.

"If there are no other complications, I expect he will recover physically." Sherlock nodded. _Mentally might be a different story. Who knows what kind of poison put in his brain that wasn't drugs? What kind of doubts and dark thoughts about Sherlock? about himself? _

"Sherlock you do know that you couldn't prevent this? John was kidnapped and…" Greg stopped when Sherlock stood up and glared at him.

"I knew Moriarty was back. I knew he had been back for weeks. I even knew where his headquarters were. I knew he was setting up a way to try and hurt me and I suspected that was through John. I continuously kept John in the dark in hopes of protecting him. I pushed him away in order to keep him safe and I left the flat that night he was taken because I was too upset after our fight to protect him. I was too busy trying to protecting him to let him do his job. I treated him like a child instead of the soldier that he is." Sherlock was almost shouting by the time he got to the end of his speech. _I failed him. I failed John. How can he want to talk to me? When he woke up, he wanted to comfort me! _

"Sherlock you were trying to help him. Moriarty was dangerous and he was on your level. Last time he strapped John to bombs because he was involved. It's reasonable that you tried to protect him." Greg tried to calm the tall man down. He was pacing back and forth across the room now. Greg steered him out in the hall way. Sherlock turned on him again once they were out of John's room.

"And it almost cost him his life. Then out of all the things he could do…punch me, be angry or hate me, he decided to tell me none of his injuries were my fault. In fact, it is entirely my fault because I let my emotions, my feelings for him,…." Sherlock paused. He was horrified that he had just admitted it out loud. He glanced at Lestrade who was still looking at him intensely. _ Stupid stupid Lestrade doesn't need to know about all your failings. You've given him enough fuel for jokes for at least a few years. _"I let my feeling for him get in the way of what works. We always solve crimes together. He always makes my deductions come faster and more clearly. I should have respected him enough to let him help me."

Sherlock continued to shake his head.

"John is going to be fine. Keep an eye on him. You are my security on him after all." Greg turned to leave, but came back to Sherlock. "Emotions are part of being human. Maybe if you let yourself experience them once in a while, they won't cloud your thinking next time. When managing emotions, it's better to be informed and honest with yourself. No one is going to blame you for caring about your friends Sherlock especially not me."

"Thank you for the advisement." Sherlock nodded as he calmed down. He had admitted a great deal to Greg just then. He went back into John's room.

"Are you ever going to have a replacement come so you can take a break?" another nurse shift had started and this one was nicer. She handed Sherlock a cup of coffee.

"Thank you. No actually I'm his personal body guard. I'm the only one assigned to him for now. I expect we'll have more security once we leave the hospital." Sherlock lied. She was young and his smile reassured her.

"Oh, well then I'll see you next time I come around." She smiled at Sherlock as she turned to leave.

_I'll need to tell John when he wakes up. I need to tell him everything so he knows. He might hate me…..I have to take that chance. He deserves the truth. I can't fail him anymore. _

He began to nod off after being away for nearly three days straight. The small cup of coffee wouldn't be enough to keep him awake. His nap that was interrupted when John had woken up had been less than an hour and he was exhausted. Sherlock tried to keep his eyes open, but sleep over took him.


End file.
